


Lord Baratheon, Hand of the King

by soulmate328



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cheating, M/M, Night before they march towards Dorne, One Shot, Rare Pairings, Reminiscing, Young and Old, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmate328/pseuds/soulmate328
Summary: People say that Lord Rogar, though old, had preserved the valor of his youth; even before the king with which he had many disputes he did not humble himself, displaying a dignified bearing fitting for a lord. But to Rogar himself, it was not an easy thing to look straight into Jaehaerys Targaryen's eyes.
Relationships: Rogar Baratheon/Jaehaerys I Targaryen
Kudos: 1





	Lord Baratheon, Hand of the King

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [拜拉席恩的首相](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817449) by [soulmate328](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmate328/pseuds/soulmate328). 



People say that Lord Rogar, though old, had preserved the valor of his youth; even before the king with which he had many disputes he did not humble himself, displaying a dignified bearing fitting for a lord. But to Rogar himself, it was not an easy thing to look straight into Jaehaerys Targaryen's eyes. Many years ago when he walked into the Red Keep in jittering steps, Jaehaerys, in his sixteenth year, had already been too dazzzling for him. Now he needed help from servants even when standing, while Jaehaerys was at his prime, tall and strong, his short hair and beard of silver-gold like the mane of a white lion. Sometimes Rogar thought Jaehaerys was him when he was young, but in a different color, and with more wisdom and experience.

"You should get some sleep, Lord Rogar." Jaehaerys approached when he saw him wandering in the corridors. "We march on the morrow."

"You can't sleep even if you want to when you're old." Rogar shook his head and managed a bitter smile. "The Queen Mother used to complain about me snoring like thunder at night, and that I slept like the dead and couldn't be waken up in any way."

He had no idea why he said something like this, right in front of Jaehaerys. But the king did not rage; his eyes darkened, and he stood beside Rogar by the balustrade, gazing down at King's Landing beneath the nighttime sky.

"It's been so many years, and I still couldn't make her as clean as Storm's End," said Jaehaerys. "The Ambassors from the Free Cities called her a pile of stinking mud in secrecy. Sickness spread, and half of the city perished shivering ... my daughter Daenerys, my loyal knights. My Master of Coin was brutally murdered, because too many of the City Watch had died, and the seat of the king became heaven for outlaws."

"King's Landing is a city, Your Grace. A new city. Storm's End is a fortress, and has existed for thousands of years. You can't compare the levels difficulty of ruling these two places."

"I know," Jaehaerys smiled gently, his violet eyes reflecting the lights of the city, too beautiful to belong to a mortal man. "But sometimes I miss the days I spent there when I was little. The walls of Storm's End made me and my sister feel very safe."

"Now that I think of it, I was such a fool to boast about subjugating your uncle." Rogar sighed. "I was more foolish than my great-grandfather. My grandmother told me stories of the Storm King since I was a child, about Argilac the Arrogant, knowing that his castle was no match for dragonflame, met his enemy in the field to die in glory. Yet I still brought you back home, believing that Storm's End is impregnable."

"There is no need to regret lending us a hand. Though it was a foolish act, you did take us in, and this is enough for us to be forever grateful. The walls of Storm's End aren't the only walls that couldn't withstand Balerion's flames."

"Or Vermithor's," Rogar added.

Jaehaerys tilted his head, showing some of that mischief he had in his youth. "Is my lord still troubled by my actions back then?" He naturally meant the occasion when Rogar came to the Red Keep to beg for pardon for the king that had just came of age, while Jaehaerys refused his offer of hostages, and instead scared him with the sight of Vermithor breaking his fast.

"Haunted, not troubled. I was frightened, and I'm afraid there's not much different now." Rogar turned away, unable to meet Jaehaerys' eyes. "I fear no one, and I can defeat any enemy on the battlefield except for dragons. My ancestor Argilac didn't even fear the dragons, and would rather die with sword in hand. I have none of his valor, or the loyalty of Lord Orys Baratheon. In the end, though I'm skilled in arms, I'm still a lesser son of greater sires. I hope to regain some of the glory of House Baratheon in his war, and show my son what a man should truly look like."

A strong hand settled on his shoulder. Rogar turned his head a little, still fearing to look at Jaehaerys directly.

"Why insist upon dying in the field, my lord? My father was never a fighter; he died of illness at Dragonstone. Perhaps it would be more honorable if he rode Quicksilver to meet the rebel lords in battle and died from a arrow in the eye, but the grief of my mother and my siblings would not diminish one bit. If you truly care for your son, my half-brother, you should stay with him and guide him til the end, instead of dying in some remote mountains, leaving nothing behind except for a letter that tells of your death."

"I ... " Rogar didn't know how to reply.

"Look at me, Lord Rogar."

Jaehaerys' fingers suddenly slid under his jaw, angling his face back towards the king's direction. Rogar stopped breathing; those deep violet eyes gazed into him, mixed with melancholy, gentleness and passion, almost sending him to the heaven in less than a second. The once brave youthful king had grown to be a widely-loved dragonlord. The claws of the dragon simply pinched the throat of the old stag, and the once powerful Lord Rogar couldn't move an inch.

"Boremund is still a boy, as you just said," his voice sounded distant and dreamy in Rogar's ears. "It will take many years before he become a proper lord. If you leave now, who will put the warmongering lords of Stormlands in place?"

"I am an old warrior, Your Grace. I don't have many years left even if I fail to die in battle. But if I win glory, at least my loyalty will set up an example for my bannermen."

"You were the first to come to my aid, my lord." Jaehaerys was almost whispering now. "The first who was loyal to me. How can you just die like this? When your grandfather Orys Baratheon resigned his office as Hand, he still guarded Storm's End for Aegon."

This made Rogar falter. He had always wanted to recreate the legend of king and lord of Aegon and his grandfather; though he had done stupid things when he lost control of Jaehaerys, deep down he knew Jaehaerys was the best king anyone could ever hope for. "I do not wish to leave you, Your Grace ... "

"Then don't," the young king said, and with strong arms gathered his body, which was nothing but an empty shell, into his embrace, and sealed their lips together, powerful but gentle. That moment, tears streamed down Rogar's cheeks, and he circled his arms around the king's neck, trembling when he felt the heat between the younger man's legs. Jaehaerys was as young and strong and hot as Vermithor, and just the presence of him made Rogar weak in the knees. The kiss went on for what felt like years, Jaehaerys' tongue plundering his mouth, and somehow they stumbled into Rogar's chamber.

"No," Rogar said with his last trace of consciousness when he was pushed into bed.

"No," Jaehaerys nodded. "I will not force you to accept me inside you. But I fear that this is the end of us, and I haven't even express to you my longing. Let your king take his pleasure, Lord Rogar."

Rogar could resist no longer. Jaehaerys didn't fuck him, but simply rubbed his member on his inner thighs. His skin wrapped loosely on his bones like a layer of old shabby clothing. Rogar had no idea how Jaehaerys could still want him, but this was too good for him to resist. He hadn't have sex ever since illness started troubling him, but Jaehaerys' hot wet moans slowly hardened his cock, forcing him to reach down between his legs to touch himself. Jaehaerys moved his hand away to replace with his, stroking him in smooth movements and quickening the pace of thrusting his hips. Jaehaerys fingered his slit and balls, the overwhelming joy of calluses rubbing over sensitive skin made tears well in Rogar eyes, and he soon came in the king's hand. Jaehaerys flipped him over to embrace him from behind, fucking his thighs in a maddening speed until he came as well. If Rogar was still young strong, hearing the king moaning in his ear and feeling his seed landing hot on his thighs, he would be ready to go on for all night right away.

When the tides of pleasure receded, Jaehaerys stood up to wet a cloth, and cleaned him with utter patience. Rogar saw that he was still half hard, so he leaned in to kiss him again, but the king put a finger on his lips and settled him back in bed.

"Sleep, Lord Rogar," Jaehaerys closed his eyes, his fingertips brushing over his lashes. "You will leave for Storm's End at dawn to call your troops, and I will meet you there with Vermithor."

"Yes, Your Grace," Rogar murmured and fell into sweet black dreams, hearing faintly the sound of the king carefully closing the door.


End file.
